


A to Z

by Mother_North



Series: Misc. [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Experimental Style, From A to Z, Gen, Mini, Minimalism, Rated G, Short One Shot, associations, in the form of an alphabet, prose, reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 09:38:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: Yuzuru from A to Z.





	A to Z

**Author's Note:**

> Pure experimentation in form and style. I have finally challenged myself to write something “G”-rated ;) 
> 
> Disclaimer: It is a work of total fiction and it is not meant to offend anyone. All of the following associations and interpretations are absolutely subjective and should be taken as such.

**

 

 **A** xel. 1.5. rotations. 2.5. rotations. 3.5. rotations. 4.5. rotations… Milliseconds equal eternity. _The King of Jumps._ Or so he has been told. He should make it his one day. And he will.

 

 **B** eyond the light. Beyond one’s expectations. Beyond set boundaries. Further ahead.

 

 **C** alculations.  24/7. Made in his mind, written in his neat handwriting on scattered sheets of paper or in his tidy notebooks. Everything according to a life plan. Breathe in, breathe out. Start again.

 

 **D** ream. He was never scared of making his dreams come true. He thought nothing is impossible. Standing at the top of unfathomable heights, looking down with not an ounce of fear in his heart. In his dreams he often saw wings. No wonder, for he was born to fly.

 

 **E** asy. Too boring, too bland, too undemanding. Not for him at all. When he is cornered he sees escape route the clearest.  

 

 **F** ighting. With his teeth and claws for the spot beneath the sun. He is not a “sweet prince” some consider him to be. He is made of diamond-hard matter. It shines but it also cuts.

 

 **G** lory. He is on the highest pinnacle of it. He knows it won’t last forever. Nothing does. But he never stops, continuing to strive, to achieve, to work harder, _not_ _sparing_ himself in the slightest and at least for now it _seems_ enough.  

 

 **H** ope. It dies last. He keeps on repeating that forsaking hope means accepting total defeat. It helps moving forward, it seams him up when he is ready to fall apart. It makes him whole again.

 

 **I** deal. He craves it. He knows it doesn’t exist in this world of imperfection and reigning entropy but he keeps on going after it. Tirelessly. Otherwise it is pointless.

 

 **J** avier. Kindness and openness. Broad palms on his waist. Warmth. Chestnut-brown eyes with sparkles of mirth. He is too good, too caring. Never his, though.

 

 **K** iller instinct. It is in his veins. He is a predator, a сheetah constantly being chased after. They want blood too but he runs the fastest.

 

 **L** ove. He will know what it is one day. It will find him or maybe it will be his to find. It’s not meant to be only ice, adrenaline, speed and exhaustion or a satisfaction of a perfectly landed jump and golden laurels. It may take form of flesh and blood. He will hold out his hand to feel what reaches back.   

 

 **M** other. Always there. Soft hands, understanding eyes, calming words. To soothe his pain, to take away the suffering. She holds him close to her chest and it fills him with tender light to the brim. He is forever grateful.   

 

 **N** ever. Never completely satisfied. Never at peace. Never giving up. Never enough. Never aiming less, ever more.

 

 **O** pen and raw while on the ice. Bleeding his soul out for everyone to see. He thanks the cold, smooth surface for accepting his sacrifice. Every single time.

 

 **P** alms. Thousands of palms clapping, waving at him from the crowded streets and packed ice-arenas, under the superficial spotlights or bright sunrays of a cloudless day. They want him and he gives them as much as he can.

   

 **Q** uest. For beauty. For perfection. For inspiration and ability to create. For being alive.

 

 **R** ightly. With every step and breath taken. Driven to no end, and _rightly so_.

 

 **S** mile. To dispel the gloom, to celebrate victory, to conquer hearts and melt the ice that threatens to overtake at times. He has will to smile regardless of what is hidden beneath the shine. It’s meant to be this way.  

 

 **T** rust. In himself, in his mission, in his inner strength, in a tiny flicker of flame burning inside that he believes to be inextinguishable. He fell numerous times but he believed he would find it in him to get up. And he did.

 

 **U** nbroken. Challenges thrown at him, unexpected blows, constant obstacles emerging out of nowhere. They do not reduce him to dust, they make him stronger. It’s your deepest pain that makes you grow.

  

 **V** ulnerability, oversensitivity. He has learned to turn them into his own strengths with time. A hard lesson to digest but it’s vital for survival. The rarest of roses grew its thorns.     

 

 **W** inning. The more the better. His is a natural-born winner. It requires hyper determination, unbounded amount of sweat and tears, a miracle of fortitude and unquenchable thirst. He has it all.  

 

 **X** element. He is _the element_ _X_ of figure skating. Unexplainable and unique. Somewhere deep down he is aware of the fact too.

 

 **Y** uzuru is his given name. Tight as a bowstring and ready to fly as high as an arrow. A truly fitting one.

 

 **Z** eal. In his thoughts and deeds and in his heart of fire.

 

**


End file.
